


Future Past

by FourCornersHolmes



Series: MCU Misadventures [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A Bit Not Good, All Aboard, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Steve Rogers, BAMF Tony Stark, Blame Aryagraceling, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Did I Mention Angst?, Divergent Timelines, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt Steve Rogers, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Rules? What Rules?, Satan sits on my shoulder and pokes at me to write angst, Sorry Not Sorry, Stony Feels, Stony – Freeform, Time Travel Fix-It, Time travelling Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, What Was I Thinking?, Why Did I Write This?, mentioned relationships, no i am not sorry, yes I went there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-22 09:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19664920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourCornersHolmes/pseuds/FourCornersHolmes
Summary: The coming of the New Year brings major changes for Tony and Steve, as Steve is given the gift of a second chance. He has a whole future to look forward to, and he would rather not face that future alone. Come Hell, high water, or HYDRA, he wants to keep his friends and loved ones close.





	1. Annihilation Of Afflication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Valkyrie has been successfully found and excavated, and the body of Captain America has been repatriated to the United States. It's time for Steve to go under the knife. Tony, ever the faithful partner, waits. He does not, however, wait in solitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from Tony's POV.

* * *

* * *

Of all the ways Tony Stark had envisioned celebrating New Year’s Eve, pacing back and forth in a hospital waiting-room definitely hadn’t been anywhere on his to-do list. And yet that’s exactly what he was doing. He was by no means the only person _in_ the room, but that didn’t stop him from fretting. He was waiting for someone, hopefully Stephen Strange, to come out and tell him that everything had gone smoothly and they wouldn’t have to worry about Steve Rogers anymore. That would be amazing. And a fucking miracle.

He remembered receiving word on Christmas Eve that the search-team had located the wreck of the HYDRA super-bomber that had crashed in the Arctic Shelf back in 1945 and with it the perfectly-preserved body of Steve Rogers in a frozen comatic state. The body had been repatriated to the United States and had arrived by plane at the first of the week, along with the team that had salvaged the wreck. After a careful, thorough examination by a medical team led by Doctor Strange, they had been informed that the frozen Super Soldier had survived the crash with minimal internal trauma to the vital organs they were going to harvest. So, after a brief discussion, Tony and Steve had signed the consent forms and Steve had undergone some final testing prior to the extensive and invasive life-saving procedures.

And now, while the rest of the world celebrated the coming of a new year and the close of an old one, Tony was worrying and waiting. He was not, by any means, alone. Jarvis was with him, and his old college-pal James Rhodes had shown up, and Bucky and Fury were also keeping him company. It was nice to have those two, they were Tony’s friends as much as they were Steve’s, after all the time they spent together. When he realized that Rhodey knew both Bucky and Fury, it just proved that his was a rather small, exclusive world. They knew each other and got along well. And that was okay.

“Tony, would you please _stop_?” Bucky interrupted his concerned pacing. “You’re going to make yourself dizzy if you keep that up. At least you’ll wear a hole in the carpet.”

“I _can’t_ stop, Bucky.” Tony looked frantically at Steve’s best friend. “If I stop moving, I start thinking, and overthinking. And then I start worrying and my head goes straight to the worst-case scenarios.”

“Well, we won’t be hearing anything for another few hours, and the nurses are giving you dirty looks. They have been for the last _two_ hours.” Bucky watched him pace back and forth.

“You’ve got to calm down, man.” Rhodey piped in, “Worrying won’t do you or Steve any good, and you know it. Sit down.”

“I _can’t_ Rhodey!” Tony said sharply. “I’m sorry. I’m … so sorry, I’m just … ” 

“We _know_ you’re worried, Tony. And that’s okay, that’s _normal_.” Fury spoke up carefully, “But you really do need to calm down before security gets involved.” Tony threw a glare at the nearby nursing station. It wasn’t just that he had been pacing and fidgeting for the last several hours since Steve had gone into surgery, he had also been pestering the nurses and any passing staff for any news they could give him. He couldn’t help it, though, Steve was everything important to him and if this didn’t work … he couldn’t begin to imagine the awfulness of losing Steve like that. On another turn, he was stopped by Fury, who just put one hand on his shoulder and gave him a steady, stern look.

“Come with me, kid.” Fury murmured, squeezing his shoulder, “Let’s go get some air.”

“But what if … ”

“In the next fifteen minutes? Unlikely.” Fury looked pointedly at his watch. “We’re going to be here for a _long_ time yet, son. Come on.”

“Go on, Tony. If anything comes up, we’ll come find you.” Rhodey urged him to step away. It was the best thing he could do for himself, and for Steve, right now.

So, with nothing else to do but follow, Tony let Fury take the lead and trailed after him.

“Where are we going, sir?”

“Just stepping away for a bit.” Fury said in a noncommittal tone of voice that Tony had come to equate with doing something not _quite_ legal. He was proven correct when Fury took an elevator as high as it would go, then down an abandoned hallway for a while, and opened a door that was very clearly marked “Staff Only”. On the other side of the door was a stairwell, going up _and_ down. They went up, and came to another door, locked as the other one had been, and Tony just watched as Fury got the door open and stepped through and out.

They were out on the roof now, where absolutely no one except staff was allowed to go, and they were alone. Technically, since this was a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, no one was going to question Fury, and unlikely to give Tony much of a second look. In the interest of maintaining a long-held secret of national, and international, importance, they had recruited Stephen Strange and his surgical team to work alongside S.H.I.E.L.D.’s medical personnel to oversee and perform the necessary procedures to transplant Steve’s heart and lungs, and had brought both Steve and his 20th century counterpart to a S.H.I.E.L.D. medical facility for said procedures. And now, Tony was just waiting for someone to give him news. Any news. Good news, bad news, he just wanted to hear _something_. Good news would be preferable, but there was no promise he would receive good news, not for something this risky.

It was brisk, cold, but the skies were clear overhead. Light-pollution kind of ruined the view, but Tony was just glad they could actually see the stars for once. Fury offered him a cigarette and a light, he accepted both.

“Thanks, man.”

“I know you’re worried about Rogers, Stark, and I don’t blame you.” Fury lit a cigarette for himself and pocketed the pack and lighter after, “But worrying isn’t gonna do you or anyone else any good. You’ve come this far with Rogers, and I’ll be damned if you don’t go beyond with him. You’re in this for the long run, son, and Steve Rogers is a lucky man.”

“Thanks. Wow.” Tony sighed and blew a cloud of smoke at the sky as he looked out over the views of the city.

“Hmm?” Fury looked sideways at him.

“What a hell of a view this is!” He privately thought that this would be the perfect place for watching fireworks.

“Not the _best_ view in town, but it’s not the worst, either.” Fury smiled and they took a minute to just … exist in the moment. Tony wished Steve could be with him, that they were at home watching the city from their rooftop terrace, but this … would have to do for now.

After a while, Tony was distracted by what sounded like gunfire.

“What was that?” He asked, head tilted a bit to one side.

“Time to play a round of “gunfire or fireworks”.” Fury huffed, rolling his eyes.

“Not a betting man, are you, Fury?”Tony grinned.

“New Year’s Eve in Manhattan, could be either one.”

“Care for a wager?”

“You a betting man, Stark?”

“When the occasion calls for it.”

“Ten says fireworks.”

“Make it twenty.” Tony reached for his wallet as another bang sounded. Looking up, they searched the clear skies for any sign of fireworks.

“Ah! There! Yes!” Tony looked at his watch as a bloom of colored sparks lit up the sky over Manhattan from Times Square, “Is it midnight already?”

“Oh damn it.” Fury grumbled as Tony held out one hand.

“Pay up!”

“Smug little fucker.”

“Should’ve checked your watch before you made that bet!” He cheerfully relieved Fury of the reluctantly-offered twenty-dollar bill, tucking it into his wallet and putting his wallet back in his pocket.

They enjoyed the fireworks from the rooftop of the private S.H.I.E.L.D. facility they had come to, chatting and smoking the whole while.

“Steve would love this!” Tony said wistfully as they watched the finale.

“Next year, Stark.” Fury patted him on the shoulder. “There’s always next year.”

“Yeah, if he’s not out on deployment next year.”

“Not likely, but there’s always the slim chance they’ll keep him on desk-duty another year.”

“He misses work, misses serving, I always felt so sorry for him.” Tony sighed and scuffed out the stub of his cigarette with the toe of his boot, “He doesn’t handle boredom very well.”

“He’ll be back on his feet in no time, but you’ll just have to be patient while he goes through the asshole stage of recovery.”

“I don’t think either of us is looking forward to it.” Shaking his head, Tony looked around one last time. “Well, I’m good to go back inside. That was a nice little break.”

“Come on, kid. Let’s go see if there’s been word.”

“After you, sir.” Tony let Fury go first and followed him back to the main part of the hospital. They stopped in the bathrooms and took care of business before rejoining the others. No word while they’d been out, which was probably a good thing. Tony was still worried short of sick, but he felt a _little_ better having been out for the past half an hour.

“How were the fireworks?” Rhodey asked, eyes fixed on the television screen that was showing live-footage of the crowds in Times Square.

“Great view from the rooftop, would’ve liked it better if Steve had been there for it.” Tony sat down again, taking the cup of mediocre coffee Jarvis handed him. He took a sip and grimaced.

“I know, I know.” Jarvis just smiled at him. “Mine is better.”

“By a long shot.” He said scornfully, glaring at the dark, bitter liquid as if it had personally insulted him. The others chuckled and Bucky ragged on him for being a “spoiled little rich boy”, but he didn’t really mean a word of it. Tony might have been born into good money, but he had worked his ass off to get where he was in his life, and everyone who knew him knew that about him.

“Yeah, well, this spoiled little rich boy is engaged to an American hero who started from the rock-bottom of the barrel and climbed his way to the top. And I am absolutely not lording it over him.”

“Nah. You’re pretty humble.” Bucky winked at him. “Stay that way, Tony.”

“Steve keeps me humble.”

“You keep each other straight.” He corrected, “You’re both reckless and temperamental, but you balance each other out and honestly, he listens to you. He never listened to me.”

“Same could be said for Tony.” Rhodey took a sip of his coffee, one eyebrow raised. “Punk never listens to sense from anybody, then here comes Steve Rogers, of all people, and gets him to sit down and listen. I thought he was nuts, but Steve’s been just as good for Tony as Tony has been for Steve.”

“Thanks, Rhodey.” Tony muttered, hot in the face. The others chuckled and Bucky reached over and patted him on the arm.

It was another eight hours before they heard anything beyond a quick check-in by Doctor Strange that everything was going very well and they had high hopes that Steve would recover 100% and live out a normal, active life. Tony had dozed off on a waiting-room couch, curled up awkwardly on the uncomfortable piece of furniture and missing the bed he shared with Steve, when he was aware of voices. He recognized both of them and cracked an eye open to see. Sure enough, it was Strange. He was talking to Bucky and Jarvis, he looked tired but in high spirits, so it must have gone well. Groaning, Tony sat up and got to his feet. He was exhausted but wired, concern had kept him from sleeping well or from sleeping more than a few minutes at a time. He had only slept ten or fifteen minutes at a time, thirty if he was lucky. His watch read 8:00 am and he tried to work out how many hours in all, but he couldn’t think straight. All that mattered was if Steve was okay. Yawning, he joined the threesome talking in quiet voices, leaning against Bucky, who quickly put an arm around him to keep Tony on his feet.

“What’s … uh, what’s the prognosis, Doc?” He asked sleepily, “How’s Steve?”

“Steve will be just fine. You can see him in a few days, I’ll be calling to let you know.”

“Okay. Um. I don’t … there’s no way I could see him before we leave, is there?”

“Of course. He won’t be awake, but you can see him.” Strange looked at Tony and smiled, “He came through with flying colors, Mr Stark, I have no doubts he’ll recover to full health in six months.”

“That long?”

“Some people don’t recover for twelve months post-op. But because this was a direct-donor from the exact same person, I suspect it will be no longer than six before we see Steve return to light-load Medically Limited Deployment duties.”

“And for desk-work?”

“Two months tops.”

“Okay.” Tony nodded, but his head was spinning. “Wh-what do we have to watch out for?” Strange explained what the signs of rejection would look like and what to look out for, but promised that everything would be explained in the post-op paperwork. Right now, Tony wanted to go home and sleep in his own bed. He didn’t have to be at the hospital anymore, so he sent Jarvis to get the car and went with Strange to see Steve before he left for home.

It was hard to view Steve in such a state, there were so many tubes and machines and the toll the disease had taken on his body was so much more obvious. Tony wanted to cry, Steve almost looked … _old_. Gaunt. His skin was pallid, ashen, and seemed stretched over his frame. Strange reassured him that Steve wouldn’t always look this way, they were still re-circulating living, healthy blood into his body to help with what had been lost during the procedures. Everything they needed was being harvested from the body they had recovered from the wreck of _The Valkyrie_ , so the chances of Steve’s body shutting down due to rejection were slim. Still valid, but slim, and they were keeping a close eye out for those specific symptoms.

“Just hang on for me, Steve.” Tony whispered, pressing a kiss to the dry, cool forehead. Squeezing Steve’s fingers, he couldn’t properly hold his hand with all of the ports and bandages and sensors, Tony turned away from the hospital-bed and looked at Strange, who waited patiently.

“I’ll walk you out.” He said quietly, holding the door for Tony. As they walked away from Steve’s hospital-room, Tony had a thought.

“Can I see him?” He asked suddenly.

“See who?”

“The … other one.” He frowned, trying to think of the right way to address the other Steve Rogers. “Can I … can I see Captain Rogers’s body?”

“Of course, S.H.I.E.L.D. hasn’t claimed the body yet, I assume that’s going to be Barnes and Fury’s job?”

“Probably. I don’t envy Bucky for that pick-up.” Tony shuddered at the thought of Bucky having to identify and transport the body of his best friend’s 20th-century self to wherever they were taking it. Paying a visit to the hospital morgue, they found a team from S.H.I.E.L.D. standing by to take the body away. And sure enough, Bucky and Fury were part of the team. All three of them went into the small side-room, where a single gurney stood, covered in a white sheet. Tony let the morgue attendant pull the sheet down and took a sharp breath in at the sight of a familiar face. A much _younger_ face, but it was definitely Steve Rogers.

“Jesus Christ, he was young!” Fury muttered.

“Twenty-seven, Agent. He was … twenty-seven.” Bucky said thickly. “Christ, I thought the recovery was bad, this is … ”

“It’s okay, Buck.” Tony said softly, squeezing Bucky’s right shoulder, “He’s upstairs resting.”

“I _know_ , but … ”

“We’ll let your people take over, Sergeant Barnes,” Strange said, looking at the morgue attendant, who asked who was in charge. That was Fury, so it was up to them to take care of the rest.

Having seen and done all he cared to at the hospital, Tony left S.H.I.E.L.D. to their business and went home by himself.

“I’ll give you a call as soon as he’s awake and ready to take visitors.” Strange promised as Tony got into the car. “You have my number?”

“Yes, but I can wait.” He sighed, “Thank you so much, Doctor Strange.”

“See you in a few days, Tony.” Strange took his hand for a moment before letting them get on their way. Tony knew he waited until they were out of sight before going back into the hospital. Tony tried to relax, but he was still so wired and worried. Going home, he retreated to the bedroom, took a hot shower, and curled up on the bed, hugging Steve’s pillow to his chest. This way, he fell asleep. Tony missed Steve, but Steve would come home. Eventually. Maybe a month from now, if they were lucky. All he could do now was wait. And Tony had never been particularly patient.

* * *

* * *


	2. Replacement Of Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is released from the hospital after the surgeries and things kind of/sort of settle down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Tony POV.

* * *

* * *

It was a week before Steve got to come home, and three months before he was able to return to light-load Medically Limited Deployment. Tony accompanied Steve to every one of his follow-up and therapy appointments, made sure he took his many medications on schedule and took care of himself, stayed up with him on the nights he just couldn’t sleep, stayed with him when Steve started to lash out and push their small circle of friends away. Bucky stayed, as well, but let Tony handle most of the outbursts. It really wasn’t anything Tony couldn’t handle, he had seen similar behavior while Steve had suffered from Hanahaki Disease in late-Stage 3 and through all of Stage 4.

The veteran wasn’t used to being so helpless, and didn’t like feeling useless. He was a doer, a go-getter, an organizer. A leader. Depending on someone else for just about everything in his daily was extremely difficult and quite demeaning for him, and he usually complained, loudly and often, that he could damn well do it himself. He wasn’t an invalid, was he?

“Actually, Steve, for all intents and purposes, you _are_ an invalid,” Tony said carefully during one such rant, putting one hand on Steve’s forearm. “But you want to know something?”

“What!” It was less of a question than it should have been, but at least he’d distracted Steve long enough to stop complaining. He smiled and squeezed gently.

“It’s okay.”

“What is?”

“You aren’t yourself, you aren’t back to your old strength, but that’s okay. That. Is. Okay.” He forced Steve to look at him, “I _promise_ I don’t love you any less because you’re acting like a complete asshole.”

“I am?”

“I thought Chief Asshole was my title, not yours.” He grinned, “But you’ve sure given me a run for it, Iceman.”

“Fuck, Tony, why do you _stay_ with me?”

“I just told you why I stay.” Tony chuckled, he couldn’t help it.

Steve rarely cursed loud enough or often enough in public to get anyone’s attention, but Tony had learned very quickly that Steve Rogers, for all his Goody Two-Shoes persona as Captain America in the 40s, had a broad grasp of obscenities and invective that would put plenty of people to absolute shame. Bucky was always happy to regale anyone who would listen with tales of the “Real Steve Rogers”, and it was almost always worth it to watch Steve squirm and try to correct Bucky, or stop him from telling a particularly embarrassing story.

“Can you … remind me? Tell me again?” Steve asked timidly, looking tired and desperate as he refocused Tony’s attention on the present. Tony hated seeing him like this, but he knew there would always be a time when Steve looked like this and there was nothing _he_ could do except be there for Steve, however that was necessary.

“I’m not leaving you because God knows what would happen to you, and because I’m in this for the long run.” He promised, taking Steve’s hand in his and pressing his lips to knuckles stained pink and blue.

“It’s gonna take more than a few temper tantrums to run me out, pal.”

“What did I do to deserve you, Tony Stark? You’re too good for the ungrateful likes of me, you can do better than a washed-up, temperamental veteran who’s a couple decades out of his comfort zone.”

“Yeah, maybe I can, but who said anything about me _wanting_ better? You’re a pretty handsome prize, anybody would be damn lucky to have you, but I’m not about to let you out of my sight.” Tony gave Steve’s hand a squeeze.

“I said it once, I’ll say it again as often as I have to until you get it into that thick skull of yours: I’m. Not. Leaving. Not now, and not anytime soon enough you’ve got anything to worry about. Now, stop moping.”

“I’m _not_ moping.”

“Yes, you are.” He grinned. “So, since I’m not going to let you distract me from the important things, want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Tony rolled his eyes. “Come on, Iceman. Or are we going to do this the hard way?”

“Who said anything about doing this the hard way?”

“Well, you aren’t exactly being talkative. And I worry about you when you get like this, I really do.” He gave Steve an earnest look, “Please, Steve? I can’t help if you can’t tell me what’s wrong. And there is no stupid answer.”

“Yes, there is.” 

“Alright, fine. I’ll play by your rules.” He settled back and studied his fiancée. “What’s a stupid answer, then?”

“I’m bored. I’m being selfish. I can’t keep my regular hours at work, and I don’t know when they’ll ever send me back on regular deployments, _if_ they ever will.” Steve looked stubbornly at his hands, refusing to make eye-contact with Tony. Well, at least they were getting somewhere with why he was so moody.

“Being bored, I get that. I hate not having something to do. Being selfish, that’s bullshit. If you’re worried about taking all of my time and attention, don’t you fucking dare. I would rather spend every single day with you, than worry about you somewhere else.” He squeezed Steve’s hand, not to get him to look up, just to let him know that he had heard and understood.

“And you won’t be back to your “regular hours at work” for another couple of months. It’ll be next year before they even think about sending you back to regular deployments. And I hate that idea. I really do.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to worry about you in places like Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Northern Ireland. All of those hot zones we’re dealing with right now.”

“Northern Ireland isn’t our problem.”

“No, but it _is_ a problem for Great Britain, and guess who one of my clients is?”

“The British Army?”

“Whole gang. I’ve got the British Army, their Air Force, _and_ their Navy. So yeah, Northern Ireland may not be _our_ problem, but it sure as hell is a problem for our allies and _my_ clients.”

“How do you know the IRA isn’t arming themselves with Stark Industries weapons?”

“I _don’t_ , and there’s not a whole lot I can do if they are, is there?” Well, at least he’d gotten Steve to refocus. “I just supply the militaries who have the funds to pay for my systems, my weapons, I don’t have a say in what happens once they get there.”

“Of course you do! Aren’t _you_ the CEO of Stark Industries?”

“Wouldn’t know that looking at me, would you? All I really do is create, build, and distribute the weapons, I don’t really know where they’re going or who’s receiving them.” Tony raised an eyebrow and looked at Steve.

“I know who’s _supposed_ to get them, but I don’t always know if they get where they’re going. Or if they stay in possession of the people who ordered them from me.”

“I guess it’s just the soldier in me that thinks about stuff like that. You’re the business-brain, I’m the … ”

“You’re the military strategist.” Tony smiled, “Be careful, Rogers, or I might make you a consultant to Stark Industries.”

“No thank you.” Steve made a face.

“No thank you, never? Or no thank you … ?” He raised an eyebrow and purposely left the question unfinished.

“No thank you, right now. Later? Maybe. When I’m less of an invalid.” Steve conceded.

“Good enough for me.” Tony nodded. “But, you know, consulting doesn’t require you to be at 100%, right? You can do just about everything I would need you for right from home. Hell, this might be the push I need to move out there.”

“Out … where?”

“Los Angeles.” He shrugged. “Obie’s been trying to get me out there to be closer to Headquarters since my dad died, before that, even, but I just never really wanted to live out there full-time.”

“You were still going to college, it wouldn’t have made _sense_ for you to move back to Los Angeles.”

“I think my parents understood that, even though Dad was always pushing on me about taking over the company when he was gone.”

“He probably didn’t think you’d be taking over so quickly.”

“Who knows what he thought? My dad was a … strange kind of man.” Tony sighed, “He was always talking about _you_ , and what kind of person you were and how much he admired you and how much the world had lost when you crashed that super-bomber into the Arctic back in ’45.”

“He loved you, Tony,” Steve said quietly, turning his hand over so they were holding hands properly.

“Even if he didn’t say so, I know he did. Your dad was one of my best friends, one of the smartest damn people, and you … you’re a lot like him.”

“But not _too_ much like him?”

“Nah.” Steve shook his head. “If I get misty-eyed looking at you, it’s not Howard Stark I’m missing.”

“It’s the other me? The one you … ?”

“Mhm.” That got a brief nod and a reply that was more sound than an actual word, but Tony wasn’t put off by it. He knew why Steve had gotten kind of quiet all of a sudden.

They didn’t really _talk_ about what Steve had left behind when he’d traveled to 1990 with Bucky Barnes. Tony knew what he’d been looking for, he knew _why_ Steve had traveled to the 90s from the 40s, but it had taken a few months before Steve would admit to him that he hadn’t actually come from the 40s. At least, not just from the 40s. It explained a lot about his age, actually, finding out that he’d traveled to the 90s from the early 2000s. From 2023, actually. Well, 2024 by the time he’d done anything about the Hanahaki Disease that was not-so-slowly killing him. But he’d come back, and his path had eventually crossed with Tony’s in the winter of 1991 at the funeral of Howard and Maria Stark. The rest was more or less history. He would give up bits of his past in fits and spurts, chunks at a time. Bucky was a much better source of intel about what Steve had been like in the 40s, and pretty reliable for the 2000s, the parts of it he had been around for at any rate.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice and a touch on his arm pulled him back to the present moment and he blinked, looking over.

“Hmm?”

“Wander off on me again, Stark?”

“Sorry. I know you don’t like talking about … him. And, really, that’s fine with me. It’s none of my business unless you want to be.”

“It kind of _is_ your business, though, isn’t it?”

“How?”

“Well, we _are_ engaged. And, really, it’s your business, Tony, because it’s about _you_.”

“Me? How is it about me?”

“It wasn’t some random whim that sent me traversing time and space looking for Tony Stark. I didn’t just wake up one day and decide, “Oh! I should go find Tony Stark and see if he’s okay with someone his dad’s age wanting to get it on!””

“What?!” It was the way he’d said it that surprised Tony.

“You’re the one I left behind, Tony, you’re the one who left me with so many scars I will never, _ever_ regret.” Steve looked down at his hands, scarred from the faded roots of Hanahaki Disease, those scars concealed in turn by the new Ink-Stain Inflorescence marks that covered his skin wherever Tony touched him. It wasn’t something that happened _every_ time they touched, but when it did, it was always interesting to watch the tattoos develop.

Tony just sat for a minute and contemplated what Steve had said just now.

 _“You’re the one I left behind, Tony.”_ So, it wasn’t a fluke? It wasn’t pity or something else? What had he been like? The Tony Stark Steve had left behind to come here?

“Well, I guess that explains why you didn’t come from the 40s.”

“I feel like I should have told you before now.”

“Would it have made any difference?”

“Probably not, considering how things turned out.” Steve looked at him then, his blue eyes kind of misty.

“Would you … have changed anything?”

“Christ, are you kidding me? There’s a _lot_ I wanted to change! There’s a few things that, if they come to pass in this timeline, I will _not_ let them repeat themselves.”

“Such as?”

“Mm-mnh.” Steve shook his head briskly. “Nope. Not saying anything. You’ll know when it comes up, I promise I’ll tell you. But I can’t tell you right now.”

“Okay. That’s okay.”

“One of those things might not even happen, actually.”

“Why not?”

“Because Bucky came with me.”

“Oh. Okay. Anything else?”

“You’ll have to wait.”

“I hate waiting.” Tony pouted, even going as far as crossing his arms over his chest. Steve laughed at him for it, reaching over and ruffling his hair.

“Oh, stop it! You always were such an impatient bastard, that doesn’t seem to have changed much!”

“Why would it? I’m still Tony Stark!”

“Thank Christ for that. Just … don’t turn into an asshole, okay? Please?”

“I make no promises!”

“And I’m not asking you to.” Steve smiled at him. “Stay my inconsiderate, devoted fiancé, that’s all I need from you.”

“Okay.” He leaned against Steve, letting it get quiet between them.

“I can _hear_ you thinking, Stark,” Steve said softly after a few minutes. “What’s on your mind?” 

“Oh. I’m just … wondering.”

“About what?”

“If we’ll ever be able to get married openly, if there will ever be a day when we _won’t_ be judged for loving each other.”

“You’re gonna have to wait a couple of decades, I’m afraid.”

“So it _does_ happen?”

“In 2008 and 2014 in California, and in 2011 in New York.”

“That’s not … terribly long, is it?”

“Between fifteen and twenty-one years of waiting, depending on which state you’re in.” Steve shrugged. Well, at least he knew it _did_ happen, in a future he would hopefully see. He could wait, he _would_ wait. Steve Rogers was worth waiting centuries for, Tony could handle waiting a decade or two. In the meantime, he would look into making Steve a consultant for Stark Industries on what kind of tech the military could make the most use of. It was just something to keep them both occupied for a while and give Steve something to do with his time and not-insignificant knowledge and skillsets.

* * *

* * *


	3. Secret Of Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's recovery continues, and he takes care of one very important, very personal piece of business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from Steve's POV this time.  
> ::  
> Also, apologies for the shortness of this chapter, but it's more or a less a bridge chapter for later. The next one will be longer, I promise!

* * *

* * *

It was another three months before Steve felt more like himself and took on more responsibilities at work. This included, but was _not_ limited to, serving as a consultant for both Stark Industries and S.H.I.E.L.D. It felt good to be useful again, and he was looking forward to the day he got to leave behind the desk-job and head back into the field. There had been a time not long ago when he had struggled to breathe, to walk a few steps without exhausting himself. That time was behind him now, and with any luck, it would be a good long while before he had any kind of trouble like that again.

Among the many responsibilities he carried out, one of them was the allocation of the remains of Captain Steven Grant Rogers, born December 7, 1918, died January 31, 1992. An unmarked cross in Arlington was the only marker they allowed the hero, a portion of cremated remains was buried at the site and the rest were given into Steve’s possession to do with as he saw fit.

He took Bucky and Tony and buried the ashes under a tree in Central Park on a warm, quiet morning, mixing the ashes with the dirt and carefully laying down the bit of grass he had cut away to make the hole. Steve wished his younger, deceased counterpart peace in whatever afterlife existed for people like them as he stood at the base of the tree, Tony and Bucky behind him on point, and rested one hand over his heart. He took some comfort in the strong, stable, healthy heartbeat under his hand.

“Thank you, Captain. I promise I’ll do you proud.” He murmured, “But I’m gonna have to do a few things a bit different than you might have. For my sake, and everyone else’s.”

“Rest in peace, Captain Rogers.” Bucky added quietly.

“No one else is ever going to know who he was.” Tony mused as they left the tree, which looked practically undisturbed as they walked away together.

“No one else can ever know who he was.” Steve looked up at the sky as he put his hands in his pockets, “But even Doctor Strange said there was no way he would have survived reanimation and revival and remained in good health enough to be released from care.”

“His sacrifices are not unacknowledged, or unappreciated.” Tony tugged Steve’s left hand out of his pocket and linked their fingers together. “I, for one, am _very_ grateful.”

“Yeah, we know you are.” Bucky just smiled. “So, when’s the wedding?”

“Oh, shut up, Bucky.” Steve rolled his eyes. “You can just _wait_.”

“Oh, you are _no_ fun at all!”

“Bullshit. You can damn well wait as long as you have to!”

“Boys, boys, you’re both pretty.” Tony interrupted their banter giving them both a stern look.

“You’re too young for the “Mom Look”, Tony,” Bucky said with a sly grin. “Lighten up, son!”

“Piss off, Barnes.” Tony gave Bucky the middle finger, which only made Steve and Bucky smile at each other and chuckle.

The rest of the day was quiet enough, Steve spent a few more hours at S.H.I.E.L.D.’s New York headquarters and made some progress on his workload there. Going home at the end of the day to Tony was nice, and after a hot shower, they had dinner together before watching a movie together. Then, worn out from his day, Steve went to bed and slept reasonably well with Tony behind him.

Time seemed to stack up following Steve’s surgeries, days turning to weeks turning to months and eventually, another year had come and gone. Steve maintained his routine, going to monthly follow-up visits with the team of doctors he had been seeing prior to the transplant surgeries, taking his meds every day at the proper time, exercising daily, eating well (or trying to), basically just keeping a semi-regular schedule and looking after himself. It helped a great deal that he had a circle of friends close enough to knock sense into him when he got stuck, and work enough to keep him busy and acceptably distracted. Birthdays and holidays were celebrated with acceptable pomp, meetings and social events were attended as necessary, and Steve expanded his network of friends and contacts. And really, between his work for the Army, S.H.I.E.L.D., and Stark Industries, there was plenty of work to do that _he_ was rather well-suited for that didn’t require a lot of physical exertion. So he was never really _bored_ , and Tony never let him feel too sorry for himself.

One person he _didn’t_ get along with, and really never had, was Obadiah Stane, second-in-command of Stark Industries and CEO before Tony had stepped up to take the lead from him. It probably didn’t help at all that Steve knew more about Obadiah Stane than Tony did. And he would never, ever let Tony know just how bad it really was. He would warn him, of course, tell him that you couldn’t trust everyone who said they were your friend. That did not eliminate Steve from the equation, of course, and he told Tony that.

“If I ever give you a reason to doubt me, to question my motives or morals, get in my face about it. Force me to talk about it.” He told Tony during one such conversation. “I’ll fight you, I may not fight fair, but I want you to confront me if I start behaving out of character.”

“Only if you swear you’ll do the same for me, then.” Tony looked him in the eye, “You’re my number one, Steve, you’re my person. We take care of each other, okay?”

“Roger that.” He smiled and took Tony’s hand, kissing the stained knuckles.

Steve guessed they wouldn’t have to worry about any major shake-ups like Tony’s kidnapping or the events behind the Avenger’s Civil War until 2010 or so, but that didn’t mean something else couldn’t happen before then to throw a wrench into things. But if he was good at anything, it was adapting and observing, so Steve was fairly confident he and Tony could weather whatever came their way in the near and distant future. Whatever came for them, they would face it together, as a team, and fight back as a team.

Steve’s circle of friends and contacts got a little bigger at a get-together for current and former service members during the festivities surrounding the Fourth of July. He was in attendance with Tony, Bucky, and Rhodey, but they were all kind of doing their own things. He could see Tony chatting with General Shaw and his wife, Bucky was … somewhere in the crowd, and he knew Rhodey could handle himself. Steve was content to make the social rounds and keep to himself until someone needed him for whatever reason, and he knew Tony and Bucky would understand if no one else made the effort to consider Steve’s stamina and comfort-level around so many new faces and so much activity. He was okay for now, but that could change, and change quickly.

* * *

* * *


	4. Expert Opinion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James Rhodes does a lot of different kinds of work, looking after Tony Stark is an almost full-time job he shares with Steve Rogers. A Fourth of July get-together is a nice break from the norm, and he reconnects with some service-buddies of his. It's not a bad way to spend the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey takes a break, scolds Tony (what's new about that?), and introduces a friend of his from the Air Force to Tony and Steve. Enter a young Everett Ross.

* * *

* * *

James Rhodes, known as Rhodey to his friends, was good at a lot of things. One of those things, which was more or less a part-time job for all the time he actually spent _doing_ it, was looking after Tony Stark. This included making sure he kept himself out of the kind of trouble it might take knowing the right kind of people to get him out of. Sometimes that was easier said than done, but this _was_ Tony Stark they were talking about. Rhodey had to admit that his long-time friend had really calmed down in the last three years. Which he would never have considered if someone had told him three years, even four years ago, that Tony Stark would settle down. Well, as much as someone like Tony ever settled down. And Rhodey had one man to thank for it: Steve Rogers. When Tony had introduced him to a tall, blond-haired man who looked a little older than Rhodey thought he should have, he’d been shocked to learn that he’d met Captain Steve Rogers! Captain America himself! And the reason he looked so sick the first time they met? Stage 4 Hanahaki Disease. End-stage, terminal, say your prayers. Call a priest. That bad.

Following the sound of laughter, Rhodey located Rogers in a group of starry-eyed Airmen who clustered around him like bees to a flower. Whatever Rogers was saying, his enraptured audience hung on every word. It was good to see him here, public affairs really weren’t his favorite. Leave that nonsense to a glory-hound like Tony. Rogers preferred to work behind the scenes and let someone else take the credit. But he did like to get his due share _of_ the credit, of course. Not that Rhodey blamed him.

“Wander off on me there, Captain Rhodes?” A cheerful voice pulled him back to the present and he realized that he had completely ignored his company. Whoops.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” He returned his attention to what was going on in his small cluster of servicemen. “Did you say something, General?”

“At ease, son.” Winston Shaw just smiled at him. “You didn’t miss anything.”

“You _did_ wander off, though, Rhodey.” Tony Stark gave him a poke and a sly smile, “Where’d you go?”

“Oh, shut up, Stark.” Rhodey glared at his best friend. “I was looking for Captain Rogers.”

“Oh, he’s right over there.”

“I _know_ he’s right over there.” Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Prick.”

“Aww, you love me!”

“Someone has to.” He muttered, taking a sip of his drink. Tony beamed and threw an arm around his shoulders, kissing him wetly on the cheek.

“Rhodes here doesn’t like letting Rogers out of his sight for too long, for whatever reasons,” Tony said with an expressive gesture of his beer bottle. “Not that Rogers needs babysitting.”

“But you sure do!” Rhodey grumped. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on him to make sure he’s not getting in over his head, and you’re too busy schmoozing to bother.”

“I am _not_. I’ve been keeping an eye on him all night, he’s just fine.” Tony waved him off, “If Steve gets cornered, I’ll act. So far, so good. After all, he _is_ an adult. I think he can handle himself at a rendezvous for service members!”

“Oh, boys, behave yourselves!” Miranda Shaw said cheerfully, laughing at their banter. “Mr. Stark, do not provoke Captain Rhodes! Captain Rhodes, do not take the bait.”

“Yes, ma’am.” They chimed in unison, appropriately contrite. Tony may not respect a lot of people, but he sure as hell respected Rogers’ superior officers.

“Well, whoever he’s with, he has their complete attention.” Shaw mused, eyeing the not-too-distant group. “And his audience is _growing_.”

“That tends to happen when he’s around. Especially with the younger ones.” Tony’s smile smoothed into something fond, and Rhodey knew that he was extremely proud of his fiancée. As he should be.

“You’re a very lucky young man, Mr. Stark.” Mrs. Shaw reached over and took Tony’s hand, giving a firm, friendly squeeze, “You take good care of Steve Rogers, and he’ll take good care of you.”

“I try my best, ma’am,” Tony said quietly, turning a faint shade of pink. They kept the intimate details of their relationship very much under wraps, but the important people like Rhodey and the Shaw’s knew and didn’t care either way. Bucky Barnes, who had known Rogers since childhood, had been there from the get-go of that relationship and it wasn’t unusual for Rhodey and Barnes to get together and drink in commiseration about their respective idiot best friends.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I need to make a pit-stop and get a refill,” Rhodey said, decisively finishing off his current drink.

“Oh, absolutely. It was a delight to see you again, Captain Rhodes.” Mrs. Shaw just gave him a friendly smile and took his hand before he offered the general a proper salute and handshake. Then, leaving Tony with the Shaw’s, he set off in search of the restrooms and a fresh drink. He accomplished both objectives fairly quickly, waiting a bit each time for his turn.

“Hey! Rhodester!”

“Oh, hell.” He groaned.

“J.R.!” An arm landed around his shoulders, “Fancy running into _you_ here!”

“Lieutenant Ross.” He looked sideways at the cheerful young pilot who had all but ambushed him. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you.”

“Oh, come on, Captain! It’s the Fourth of July! Smile!” Everett Ross was _very_ drunk, but not so drunk he would regret some of his life choices in the morning. Just that cheerful, goofy stage of drunkenness that usually precluded driving yourself home at the end of the night.

“I sure hope you have a ride home tonight, Ross, because Christ help us all if you try driving yourself.”

“Sourpatch,” Ross muttered. Rhodey rolled his eyes. Tony sometimes called him that, if he was in a playfully spiteful mood and Rhodey was trying to talk some sense into him.

“Well?”

“No, I didn’t drive myself. Yes, I will get a ride home. Probably take a cab or something. Metro won’t be running that late anyway.”

“You never know, you might get lucky.” Rhodey watched the line move forward and moved with it. “How’s it been over there, by the way? I thought you were still overseas?” He decided to make small talk, it was the least he could do. 

“Nah. Got lucky enough to get sent home for a while.” Ross tagged along, holding a nearly-empty glass in one hand. “Sure won’t miss that sandbox anytime soon!”

“Probably not!” Rhodey smirked. “Any idea where they’ll send you next?”

“Not a fucking clue! Maybe I’ll get lucky and land a spot on that outfit heading to the UK?”

“Shit. Fingers crossed if you’re wanting in on _that_ exercise, son!” Rhodey chuckled.

He’d heard about an international joint-force exchange program that sent a few lucky bastards to foreign ally military posts to serve out a term of deployment with their armed forces while they sent a few of their own to the Americans. Of course, someone like Ross would want in on that, it was something out of the regular and definitely not a usual deployment post. Didn’t he have family over there or something? That could be a factor in his wanting to land one of those assignments. Rhodey preferred state-side postings and whatever took him to the less-safe places of the world when and as he was needed there.

“Also, who’s that?” Ross distracted him, tugging on his sleeve.

“Hmm?”

“Over there. Who is _that_?” He followed Ross’s slightly-off-target finger to the group of people around Steve Rogers.

“Oh. Surprised you haven’t had a chance to rub shoulders with him yet!” Rhodey grinned and stepped up to the bar as their turn came up. “What’s your pleasure, LT?”

“Oh, um.” Ross blinked at his empty glass. “Wow. When did that happen?”

“You weren’t paying attention is when that happened,” Rhodey said lightly as Ross set down the empty glass. “This one’s on me. Take your pick.”

“Oh! Well, sure! Uh, can I … well, actually, what are _you_ drinking?”

“Beer. Nothing special.” He had discarded the empty bottle a while ago.

“Well, that’ll do!” Ross studied the list of offerings and picked one. Rhodey got another two bottles of whatever he and Tony had been drinking, and Ross’s choice. When the bottles were set down, he took two of them and passed the one to Ross.

“There, that’s yours.”

“Thanks for that, Captain.” Ross took a sip of his beer and smiled. “What’d I owe you for that?”

“Not a dime.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t even think about it.”

“You bought me a drink!”

“I can be a nice person when I feel like it, LT.”

“Well, fine then. Be like that.” Ross said belligerently. Rhodey chuckled and patted the younger pilot on the shoulder.

“Oh, you’re alright, Sunshine.”

“But seriously, who _is_ that?” Ross asked, pointed at Rogers, whose crowd of admirers had shrunk a bit. Rhodey decided it couldn’t hurt to introduce them, or at least put Ross into Rogers’ circle of influence.

“Give me a second, and I’ll take you over there.” He hefted the bottles and set off to give one to Tony. Ross hovered while he delivered the bottle to Tony.

“Oh, _there_ you are! Thought you disappeared on me!” Tony beamed at him when he appeared. “Took you an eternity, didn’t it?”

“Oh, knock it off, Stark.” He rolled his eyes and held out one bottle. “Here, this is yours.”

“Oh, Rhodey, you spoil me.”

“No, I knock sense into your head when you won’t listen.”

“You sure try!” Tony took a sip and looked around, getting eyes on Rogers and moving on once he had.

“Oh, who’s your friend, Rhodey?” Tony asked when he caught sight of Ross standing nearby.

“Friend of mine. One of the best damn pilots I know.” Rhodey smiled and waved Ross over. “Tony Stark, Lieutenant Everett K. Ross.”

“Ooh! One of Rhodey’s guys!” Tony just lit up. “Nice to meet you, Lieutenant!”

“Likewise, Mr. Stark! Nice to put the name and the face together in person!”

“Ah, I’m nothing special!” Tony waved it off, “So, home from somewhere hostile, then?”

“Yep.”

“God bless you, thanks for your service, man.” Tony took a sip of beer, “Where?”

“Persian Gulf, until recently. Home for a while, then off wherever they send me.”

“Oof. Good luck.” Tony raised his bottle, “You and all the rest of ‘em, brave souls make me look like a pansy.”

“Not by a long shot! You build the tech we use in the field! That’s not nothing!” Ross shook his head briskly. He didn’t stay long, eventually wandering off again.

“Oh, I _like_ him!” Tony said softly as Ross went on his way. “That one’s got some promise to ‘im! One of yours, then, Rhodey?”

“More or less.” He shrugged. Ross could handle himself, but Rhodey was _very_ interested in how he handled Steve Rogers. They would just have to wait and see.

* * *

* * *


	5. Soundwave Rogues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve plays hooky from the veteran's get-together, and he has some very interesting (and very interested) company. Everett Ross might be one of the luckiest men in Manhattan tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go. Chapter 5 for your reading pleasures. Apologies.

* * *

* * *

Steve was chatting with a few of his squad-mates, who all wanted to know when he’d be coming back to the field, when he spotted a new face hovering on the edges of their small group. Not one of his, the uniform declared the stranger one of Rhodey’s people. Young kid, barely out of his twenties, had a whole life and a long career ahead of him, had already seen some heavy action and carried himself like an ace pilot. Not terribly cocky, but definitely not shy of showing off a little. He was, however, very shy of inserting himself into Steve’s little pow-wow. He made a gesture and looked over at his lieutenant, a smart young kid named Anderson.

“I’m so sorry, Andy. There’s someone else I need to talk to.”

“Oh, gosh! Don’t apologize, Cap! We’re being selfish bastards and taking up all of your time!” Anderson smiled and hugged him. “Don’t you dare be a stranger, alright? Stay in touch?”

“I promise nothing, but I’ll do my best.” He said calmly, leaving his men behind. They were safely out of earshot as he caught up with the Airman.

“Hi. Sorry about that.”

“No! Jesus, I wasn’t…I didn’t expect you to leave your group behind for me!” The kid blinked, a bit star-struck. Steve smiled and traded salutes with the kid.

“At ease, son.”

“Um, I’m…sorry, sir, I’m Everett Ross, sir. Lieutenant Everett Ross, Captain.”

“Nice to meet you, Lieutenant.” He shook hands with Ross. “Just call me Steve.”

“Yes, sir.” Ross smiled a bit shyly. Steve looked around the bustling party as he took a sip of his drink, and an idea struck him. He was personally a bit overwhelmed by the crowds and the sheer number of people who wanted a minute of Captain America’s time, and he suspected getting away from the noise and chaos would help Ross relax a bit as well.

“Captain?” Ross’s voice pulled him back to the now and he looked at the young pilot.

“I’m so sorry, Lieutenant. Did you say something?”

“Not yet I haven’t.” Ross eyed the clusters of uniformed attendees surrounding them, all of them apparently minding their own business. “I was about to ask if you wanted to get out of here.”

“Sorry?”

“You know, ditch the stiffs and go somewhere less … ” He trailed off with a vague gesture at their surroundings.

“Less than here?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

“Where do you think we would go?” 

“I don’t know. I just … I kind of itch, y’know? Big formal parties like this never really sat right with me. I’m more of a beer and pretzels kind of bloke.”

“You and me both, son.” Steve grinned. “So, you want to get out of here?”

“Yes?”

“That’s not an answer, Lieutenant.” He took a sip of his beer and raised an eyebrow at Ross.

“Were you _looking_ for an answer, sir?”

“Well, if I’m ditching this party, I’d rather not leave you to rot.” He smirked. “What’d you say, Lieutenant Ross? Up to playing hooky for the rest of the night?”

“Oh Christ, yes! Yes, sir!” Ross just lit up and Steve knew this would be an interesting night. So, they ended up ditching the party to get dinner together somewhere a little less…formal? Formal, that was a good word for it.

“Five minutes, I’ll meet you out front and we’ll find somewhere a little more private to talk,” Steve said, getting up first.

“Thank you, Captain. I didn’t want to ask, impose, but … ”

“It’s no problem! Go on, Lieutenant.” He smiled and let Ross go ahead. He filled that time by making the rounds with the people he knew and saying his goodbyes, finishing his drink, giving Tony a heads-up, and stopping by the gents one last time.

Finding Tony didn’t take long, and he simply put an arm around Tony’s shoulders.

“I’m gonna skip out of here if that’s alright with you?” He leaned close to Tony, keeping his voice down.

“Sure. Who asked for a minute of your time?”

“One of Rhodey’s people.”

“Ross?” Tony’s eyes were bright.

“You’ve met him, I take it?”

“Charming fellow, isn’t he?” Tony grinned, “Dinner?”

“That’s the plan.” He frowned slightly, “Is this okay with you?”

“Absolutely. I never said it was exclusive, Rogers.”

“Neither did I!” Steve shook his head. “I just wanted to check with you before I took off for the night.”

“It’s absolutely fine with me, I know you’ll always come home to me.” Tony gave him a stern look, one he was very familiar with. “You’re not much of a browser, Rogers, so I’m not too worried.”

“Thank you, Tony.”

“Have fun, be safe, and I’ll see you at home.” Tony was giving him permission. That was … nice of him. And it also made Steve feel better about spending time with another man. They might be engaged, but neither of them had ever explicitly stated that theirs was an exclusive relationship.

Leaving Tony with Rhodey, and apologizing for abandoning them, Steve finished off his drink and tossed the empty bottle into one of many bins scattered around the reception-area. He hit up the gents before he headed for the street and got away without any further delays. Outside, it was cool and surprisingly quiet after the noise and crush of the party, and he found Ross standing on the curb next to an idling taxi.

“Everything good, sir?” Ross asked brightly as Steve headed for him.

“Yep. I just had to let the rest of my party know I was taking off.” He smiled at the young pilot. “Come on, Lieutenant.”

“After you, sir!” Ross just beamed at Steve as they got into the cab. Steve directed the driver to one of his favorite restaurants.

The drive to the restaurant was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. They kept up some small talk, Ross told him a bit about his family, and Steve couldn’t help noticing just a bit of an accent. It sounded like a regional from the UK, West Country, maybe? There was definitely the hint of BBC Pronunciation, but there was also something else. Steve had spent quite a bit of time in London back in the 40s, so he knew what the locals from that part of the world sounded like. He’d be damned if Ross didn’t have family in the UK.

When they reached the restaurant, Steve paid the fare and tipped the driver. Going inside, they joined a short queue of waiting patrons.

“Place seems kind of busy tonight.” Ross mused quietly, looking around, “Little out of my price range.”

“My treat, Lieutenant, don’t worry about the cost.” Steve smiled and stepped up to the hostess-station when their turn came up.

“Good evening, sir!” The woman behind the desk said cheerfully as they made their approach.

“Good evening.” Steve smiled politely at the woman. “I was wondering how long the wait for two was tonight?”

“Well, let me see, sir! We have a bit of a wait, as you can see.” Gesturing to the queue of people waiting for tables. “For two, you said?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s a twenty-minute wait for house or patio seating, sir, but if you want to sit in the bar area, there’s no wait for that.”

“Is it full-service in the bar area?” Ross asked curiously.

“Yes, sir, it certainly is.”

“Well, I can wait twenty minutes.” Ross shrugged, looking at Steve, “It’s up to you, sir.”

“We’ll wait, thanks.” He turned to the hostess, “We’d like a booth if possible, please.”

“Oh, absolutely, sir! What name is that going to be under, then?”

“Uh, Rogers.” He made a face as he gave his name. This place was the sort that took your party by the last name. Just watch, someone would recognize him and it would be awkward.

“There you are, sir! We’ll seat you as soon as we can!” The hostess made a note and gave him a bright smile. Nodding to her, Steve tugged on Ross’s sleeve and stepped out of the way. He joined the queue of waiting patrons and leaned against the wall, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

“You alright, sir?” Ross ventured quietly.

“I’m fine, Ross.” He sighed. “Just resting my eyes.”

“Maybe you should sit, sir. You’ve been on your feet for almost three hours.” Ross said, his voice taking on a familiar tone Steve usually heard from Tony and his medical team when he overexerted himself.

“And I’ve been on my feet a lot longer than three hours before, son. I’m fine.” Steve didn’t bother opening his eyes. Thankfully, Ross seemed to take the hint and didn’t push the subject any further.

They waited the proscribed twenty minutes the hostess had dictated and were shown to a quiet, semi-isolated booth in the crowded, buzzing dining room. Steve was glad they had remembered that request of his and settled into position such that he could see most of the dining room and still focus on Ross. The way they ended up seated, they were sitting next to each other, but they each had a very decent view of the crowded dining room. Steve smiled into a sip of water at the way certain habits never really seemed to die and were mirrored unconsciously by others.

The hostess had been polite and a bit distant, as was usual for someone in her precise position, but their server was a great deal more outgoing. A young woman with extremely short hair dyed a rather alarming shade of blue that faded from one shade to the next, a couple more piercings than most people considered tasteful, intelligent hazel eyes, and a bright smile, approached their table.

“Good evening, gents!” She said brightly. “My name is Alicia and I’ll be your server tonight! Mandy will be helping me out, so if you see her, feel free to wave her down! Have you been here before?”

“Yes.” Steve nodded, glancing at the menu. “I have, it’s his first time here.”

“Oh, well, we’re glad to have you both! Can I get you boys anything to drink?” Alicia had her pen and order-pad ready to go.

“You want anything?” Steve looked at Ross, who was scouring the drinks menu. The younger man glanced up at him and nodded.

“Gimme a sec.” Ross went back to his browsing.

“I’ll have water and a Guinness, please.” Steve placed his drink order.

“Got it! Any appetizers for you two?”

“We’ll share the Calamari and the Cheese Board.”

“And you, sir?” Their server looked at Ross, who settled with a Guinness.

“Alright, I’ll get your drinks and appetizers in! Do you need anything else?”

“Not right now, thank you, Alicia.” Steve was careful to use her name. She gave them a bright smile and left them alone.

“Was she flirting?” Ross asked quietly once their server was gone.

“If she was, I completely missed it.” Steve looked up from reading the menu. “Why? Did you see something?”

“Not more than usual.” Ross shrugged and studied Steve. “The uniform usually makes people pay attention.”

“If she was, she’s barking up the wrong tree.” Steve murmured. He was neither straight nor single. He wasn’t about to out himself in the restaurant, it was nobody’s business unless Ross brought it up.

“At least she’s been subtle so far, huh?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t know if someone was flirting with me.”

“Too bad.” Ross smiled, leaning against the table. “Anybody would be damn lucky to get you.”

“What? A rundown veteran with more baggage than anyone should have to deal with and a reputation that’s more trouble than it’s worth?”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself!” Ross wrinkled his nose. “You just have to find the right person!”

“Maybe I have.” Steve murmured, thinking of Tony. Tony, who had given his blessing for him to spend the evening with someone else. Well, he hadn’t come in with any expectations, so it would be kind of hard to disappoint him.

Their server returned shortly with their appetizers and drinks, leaving again once she had taken their orders and was sure they didn’t need anything else. Once they had the appetizers and drinks, Steve felt a little less … stressed out. He had come out after ditching that veterans’ party to get away from the noise and the chaos and the crush of people demanding his time. For his sake and Ross’s sake. He wanted the kid to feel less like this was business, because it really, honestly wasn’t. And once he got Ross to relax, he opened up and just talked about everything and nothing.

Questions were asked and responses were given, even to the stickier questions Steve was pretty damn sure Ross wasn’t supposed to be asking in the first place. But he didn’t mind talking about his past, most of it wasn’t classified and the parts that _were_ usually didn’t come up in a given conversation. If they did, he steered the conversation to another subject.

“So,” Ross spoke around a mouthful of grilled salmon, setting his fork down to take a sip of beer. “What’s _your_ story, then?”

“Well, you know most of it, what else do you want to know?” Steve raised an eyebrow over the rim of his glass. “I have some more questions for you, too.”

“I guess we both have more questions, huh?”

“You can go first. What do you want to know?”

“How did you survive?”

“Survive what, precisely?” Steve narrowed his eyes, there were a lot of things he had “survived”, some more recently than others and most of them classified.

“The discoloration on your hands and wrists, suggestive of Hanahaki Byou, Hanahaki Disease,” Ross said quietly, attention focused discreetly on Steve’s hands, and the visibly mottled, color-stained skin that wasn’t concealed by his uniform. “But the color-stain discoloration and floral tattoo-patterning suggest Roseolar Polychromasia Anthirós.”

“You’re not a doctor, are you?” Steve asked suspiciously. That would just be his luck, wouldn’t it? It wasn’t every day someone used the proper scientific terms for the disease that had ruined Steve’s heart and lungs so badly he required a full cardiopulmonary transplant just to survive. The only people who had, up to now, were Doctor Strange and the rest of Steve’s medical team who had taken care of him up to and following the surgeries. Most people without medical training didn’t use the proper terms and even those who did rarely spit them out in casual conversation.

“No, sir, I am not. My cousin is, though.” Ross shook his head. “I’m a flight-medic.”

“I thought you were a pilot?” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“I fly med-evac and rescue ops when I’m not at the stick of something faster and deadlier than an MH-60/HH-60 helicopter.”

“Black Hawks.” Steve raised an eyebrow. That by itself was pretty impressive.

“What else are you cleared for, then?”

“The F-16 and the F-117.”

“Color me impressed, Lieutenant! That’s a hell of a record!”

“It’s not _that_ impressive.”

“Modesty does not become your accomplishments, Lieutenant.” Steve scolded. “I’ve only known you for a few hours and I know that’s a load of bullshit.”

“That’s fair.” Ross smiled. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Stage 4.”

“Jesus. That’s incredible!”

“It was miserable, I had several moments of self-loathing and according to my caretakers, I was a bit of a bear on my really bad days.” He shrugged, taking a sip of beer. “The ones I was conscious enough to string words together.”

“Be careful what you ask for!” Ross whistled softly. “So, what about your questions, then?”

“I was honestly just wondering about your family.” He said as he looked across at his dining companion.

“What about my family?” A raised eyebrow. ~~~~

“Where you’re from.” Steve smiled. Ross took another bite, swallowed, took a sip of beer, and put his fork down before he answered.

“My parents moved to Maryland when I was six, but I don’t think that’s the question you’re asking, is it?”

“I’m not the most observant bloke, but I’m pretty good with accents. West Country?”

“How the hell did you pick _that_ up?!” Ross’s eyes widened. Apparently, no one ever really brought up his accent in conversation. At least not in this context.

“I spend enough time in England and the UK, your accent was easy to pick up.” He took a sip of water. “So, which is it?”

“Well, like I said, my parents moved to Maryland when I was six. But I was born and raised in Somerset. Uh, Street, near Glastonbury.” Ross picked up his pint-glass and took a quick sip.

“I still have family there, but I don’t see them as often as I’d like.”

“Figured. Siblings?”

“No, I’m an only child.” Ross shrugged.

“That’s two of us.” Steve sighed, “So, cousins?”

“Three, but only two I still speak to.”

“Better than no one you still speak to.”

“Close as brothers, John and me.” Ross grinned, chuckling, “Got into all kinds of mischief when we were little, right up until we moved. But Ian was by far the worst of us.”

“What do your cousins do?”

“Iain’s a war-photographer, goes wherever they send him. Lives in a dingy little flat in Stirling when he’s not traveling the hot-zones of the world.”

“Brave, possibly stupid. Respectable, though.” Steve nodded. “Not exactly my idea of a fun job.”

“He loves it, loves the thrill of it. Always someplace new to visit and new people to meet. He can speak something like six languages, most of them fluently.”

“What about your cousin John?”

“He’s Royal Army. Like I’m U.S. Air Force.”

“Oh, nice.” Steve smiled and raised his glass in a small salute. He had kind of figured Ross’s family was military, just from a few small cues he’d read on the younger man. “Where’s he stationed right now, then?”

“He’s in Northern Ireland with the Royal Irish Regiment. Joined up with the Royal Army Medical Corps.”

“As a medic?”

“Went to medical school, actually. Got his degree on the Army's dime.”

“What does he do now?”

“I think he’s a field-surgeon at the moment.”

“That’s brave of him.” Steve whistled low. He had the utmost respect for combat medics and all who served to save lives rather than take them, though he knew plenty who did both in any given day and did it very well. His job was to make sure the other guy didn’t have a chance to get up again, it was someone else’s to make sure _his_ guys got to go home alive or at least in one piece.

“And, um, in the interest of full disclosure, I did have one question?”

“Ask away. The worst I can do is tell you to fuck off.” Steve shrugged and took a bite of his steak. This particular restaurant did something special and it always turned out just perfectly.

“So, um, you know I know Captain Rhodes, yeah?”

“I figured you were one of his.” Steve wrinkled his nose. “What about it?”

“I’m just ... curious. My cousin would have a few things to say about you if he knew you were up and around like this.”

“Why is that?” He raised an eyebrow. “I take it these would be rather not-nice things?”

“Yeah, about.”

“Who told you?” He knew what Ross wasn’t asking about, there was only one thing it could be.

“J.R. .... uh, Captain Rhodes, he talked. Not a lot, of course, he’s a really private guy, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know. There’s a “but” in there.”

“But when somebody asked why he’d been so quiet and distracted lately, he just said he knew somebody who’d undergone complete cardiopulmonary transplant for Stage 4 Hanahaki and they were back on their feet just six months post-op.”

“So you went digging?” Steve wasn’t surprised at all. “How did you get away with it?”

“It helps knowing people. My cousin did some digging of his own and the two of us together, we, um ... we came up with a pretty bizarre picture.” Ross folded his hands under his chin, looking both younger and older at the same time. The light played with the color of his eyes, making it grey and green and blue together.

“You want to know how.”

“Yes, sir, I do,” Ross said firmly, but still respectful to someone who was his superior.

“I don’t know if you would believe me. And honestly, _that_ bit of my history is definitely classified.”

“Means you can’t tell me at all or ... ?”

“I _could_ tell you, I just wouldn’t do it in public.” He shrugged.

“That’s fair. But you _will_ tell me?”

“Absolutely,” Steve promised. “Now, what about you? Did they stick you on desk-duty once you got your feet back on home soil?”

“Nah. I haven’t done anything worth getting my wings clipped _yet_ , sir.” Ross rolled his eyes.

“So, what have you done with yourself, then?” Steve inquired. “I can’t imagine you’ve been home _that_ long?”

“Long enough I’m getting bored, sir.”

“Happens to the best of us, son. You’re in good company there.” He smiled and got a bit more of Ross’s story out of him as they continued their meal.

Once their plates were clean and their glasses empty, Steve paid the bill for both of them, waving off Ross’s objections.

“Don’t worry about cost, son. I can cover this. Buy me coffee, or breakfast in the morning, and we’ll call it even.”

“I doubt coffee would come even close to making it even, never mind breakfast.” Ross wrinkled his nose. “So ... now what?”

“Well, we can go back to yours, or we can get a room somewhere?”

“Oh, no, not mine please.” Ross said bluntly, “Between barracks and bachelor’s living, it’s not something I want to bring anyone home to. Yours, maybe?”

“Mm, nah.” Steve shook his head as he signed the receipts and slid the card back into his wallet. “Let’s get out of here, figure out the rest once we’re back on the road.”

“Lead the way, Captain.” Ross took a final sip of his water and got up, following Steve’s lead.

As they left the restaurant, Steve looked for a cab. But when he caught sight of a familiar Jaguar, he chuckled. Well, that worked too. Trust Tony to sick Jarvis on him for the night. As they stood on the sidewalk, Jarvis appeared and came around the car, holding the back door for them.

“Captain Rogers.”

“Thanks, Jarvis.”

“You have a _driver_?!” Ross gasped.

“Yes, I have a driver.” He smiled, “Come on, son.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere a little less public.”

“Where to, sir?” Jarvis asked from the front once they were settled.

“The Roosevelt, Jarvis. Unless you had a better idea, Lieutenant?” He looked at Ross, who squinted.

“We just ate a hell of a meal, but the idea of dragging back to a hotel room doesn’t sound like such a good idea.”

“Coffee, then?”

“Sure?” Ross looked at him suspiciously, “But this time I’m paying. And I’m going to owe you a couple of months worth of coffee-dates to make up for that dinner anyway.”

“Fair enough. After you, then?” He grinned, knowing this would come up in any conversation for a long time yet.

“Sure.” Ross looked forward, “Um, 7th and 35th, please?”

“Yes, sir.” Jarvis touched his cap and put up the privacy divider. It was quiet and comfortable in the cabin, and Steve relaxed a bit more.

“So. Now can you tell me?” Ross inquired after a while.

“What do you want to know first?”

“Was it a total cardiopulmonary transplant? Or just ... just a partial?” Those blue eyes were brightly curious. Steve huffed.

“It was complete. Double-lung transplant and a heart transplant.”

“Holy shit, sir! Why are you even on your feet?! I thought you looked a little off-color, but I didn’t think it was that serious!”

“How much reading did you actually do? How much research did you do?”

“A lot of the records for Steve Rogers are blacked out, but I read a mention of the SSR and Project Rebirth in the records we did get hold of.”

“So you’ve seen the enlistment photos?”

“Yeah. Steve Rogers was a skinny little shit from Brooklyn, there’s no way he should have survived boot-camp. Prior medical history is pretty much off-limits.” Ross looked at him sidelong.

“But you know people.”

“My cousin, John, knows people.” Ross corrected. “You shouldn’t be _alive_ , Captain. You were listed Missing In Action/POW on every Army register from 1945. They had no idea what had actually happened to you.”

“And yet, here you are sitting next to me.” Steve just gave Ross a steady look. He’d definitely fielded more awkward Q&A sessions than this one, but Ross probably knew where the line was and knew better to do more than nudge at it with a curious toe before crossing it.

“How, though? How did you ... how did you go from the sickest kid in the city of Manhattan to a living legend?” Legitimate curiosity colored Ross’s questioning, this was kind of an unusual opportunity for him.

“How did you survive whatever happened to you in 1945?”

“Technically, there were no viable surviving subjects of Project Rebirth after 1945.” He sighed and rubbed his thigh, wondering why he was so calm about this.

“How did Steve Rogers From Brooklyn become Captain America?”

“Project Rebirth ... saved my life. It was the second chance I wasn’t looking for.” Steve remembered Doctor Erskine and how hard the kind-hearted man had fought to get Steve into the program.

“And what happened in 1945?”

“I probably shouldn’t have survived that. But I did.”

“Lucky for the rest of us.” Ross reached over and touched his sleeve. “You miss the people you knew back then, don’t you?”

“A lot of them, yeah. But I still have Barnes, he’s been with me since forever.”

“You met as kids in Brooklyn, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. If you asked him, he’d tell you his job was basically keeping me out of trouble and dragging me out of the trouble he _couldn’t_ keep me out of.”

“You weren’t _that_ bad, were you?” Ross asked with a grin.

“America’s Golden Boy was a bad boy before they bulked him up and stuffed him into spangly spandex to sell war bonds.” Steve grimaced. “Not my finest moment.”

“What changed?” Ross asked, genuinely curious. “How did Captain America become Captain Rogers?”

“I went AWOL and broke into a HYDRA base behind enemy lines in Austria, freed a couple dozen Allied POWs, stole some weapons while I was at it, made it back to camp and got my ass reamed by Colonel Phillips.”

“He wasn’t a fan, was he?”

“Nope. He thought I was a joke, he didn’t take me seriously.”

“That’s not exactly fair to you, all you put up with and went through? You passed boot camp, didn’t you?”

“By the skin of my fucking teeth.” Steve looked out the window as they slowed down. “But I think, at the end of everything, we respected each other.”

“Well, that’s better than loathing, I guess.” Ross sniffed, clearly not impressed with the way Steve had been treated.

The car came to a halt ten minutes later and the door was opened for them by Jarvis.

“Thank you, Jarvis.” Steve held out one hand.

“Of course, sir. Have a good night.” Jarvis beamed as they shook hands. He looked at Ross, “Goodnight, Lieutenant Ross.”

“Goodnight, sir.” Ross nodded, a little surprised Jarvis knew his name. They stood on the curb as Jarvis got back into the car and drove away. As soon as the car was out of sight, Steve took Ross inside.

“Where are we?” He asked curiously as he held the door for Ross, the place looked kind of familiar.

“Andrew’s Coffee Shop. Good, small place.” Ross smiled as they went inside and joined a small wait. Steve wondered if the same family still owned and ran the place or if it had switched hands sometime in the last few decades.

When they reached the desk, Steve gave the woman behind the desk an easy, charming smile.

“Good evening, Miss Broward.” He said pleasantly, having recognized her while they were waiting in line.

“Oh! Captain Rogers!” The girl looked surprised to see him. “Hello, sir! How are you?”

“I’m doing alright, Candy.” He leaned against the desk. “Busy night for you?”

“Just doing my job, Captain.” Candice Broward blushed prettily. “How many in your party, sir?”

“Two.” Steve looked around the busy but not terribly crowded diner.

“Excellent.” She checked her seating-chart and collected two menus. “Just follow me, gentlemen!” Candy showed them to a small booth and handed over the menus.

“Alicia will be taking care of you tonight. You two just enjoy yourselves, alright?”

“Will do, Candy.” He gave Candy a hug and sat down. “Have a good night.”

“You, too, Captain!” Candy waved as she headed off back to the hostess station.

“How the hell do you know the hostess?” Ross whispered once they were alone.

“I know Candy pretty well.” He mused, making eye-contact over the top of the menu in his hands. “Her husband is in my squad, so we’re kind of friends.”

“Oh. That … I guess that’ll about do it, huh?” Ross grinned.

“Just about.”

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, I have another question?”

“Fire away.”

“How do you know Rhodey?”

“Oh, that? I met Rhodey through a mutual friend of ours.” Steve smiled a bit bashfully.

“Who?”

“I don’t suppose you happened to meet Tony Stark at that party, did you?”

“Actually, I did! How do you know _him_?”

“Met him at his parents’ funeral back in ’91.”

“That’s kind of a weird place to meet somebody.” Ross grimaced. “You knew his parents, I assume?”

“I knew Howard Stark, but I didn’t have a chance to ever meet his wife.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.”

“Howard Stark was one of my best and closest friends. It was his job to make sure I had all the gear and weapons I needed and if anything needed fixing, he was the man who did the repairs.” Steve shrugged, “When I met Tony, I just knew I had to … ”

“You had to do whatever it took to make him as much of a friend as his father was. Keep _him_ out of trouble?”

“Try to, anyway. Rhodey and Buck are a huge help with that, but it’s not an easy job.”

“I can’t imagine it is.” Ross mused quietly. “Not that I have much room to point fingers at anyone.”

They were interrupted as their server approached, and Steve and Ross exchanged a startled look.

“Is that … ?” Ross whispered as the cheerful girl with multicolored hair came their way.

“Oh my god, I think it is.” Steve could only think of one person he had met who looked at all like their server.

“Welcome to Andrew’s! My name is Alicia!” She said with far more cheerfulness than someone in her position should have. “Have you dined with us before?”

“Um. Yes, actually.” Steve cleared his throat. “Just been a while.”

“Well, welcome back!” Alicia looked at the two of them and her eyes widened. “Oh my god. Captain Rogers?”

“Long time no see, Alicia.” Steve smiled. “You work two jobs?”

“Um. Three, actually.” Their server from the steakhouse blushed.

“Oh, lord. Good for you!” Steve shook his head.

“So, can I get you boys something to drink while you look at the menu?” Alicia’s smile did not dim or waver as she held up her order-pad. “Or are you ready to order?”

“I’m ready if you are.” Steve looked at Ross, who nodded.

“I’m good.” He turned to Alica, who had her pen ready to go. “We’ll take two slices of apple pie and two cups of hazelnut coffee.”

“Do you want that “a la mode”?”

“Sure! And room for cream on the coffee, please and thank you, Alicia.” Ross said with a smile as they handed over their menus.

“Great! I’ll bring some waters for you boys and have your orders right out!”

“Thank you so much, Alicia!” They said together as she walked away to place their order.

It was quiet for a few minutes, not an entirely uncomfortable quiet but a heavy one nonetheless.

“What’s on your mind, Captain?” Ross said quietly, interrupting Steve’s wandering train of thought.

“Hmm?” He looked up, paying closer attention. “What’s that, Lieutenant?”

“You got quiet on me.” Blue eyes studied him carefully. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine.” He shook his head. “I promise.”

“Hmph.” It was clear Ross didn’t believe him. “Why do I not believe you?”

“I never said you had to.” Steve saw Alicia coming their way with a tray on one shoulder.

“Here’s your drinks, boys!” She said as she set down two glasses of water and two cups of coffee with a small pitcher. “That’s half-and-half for the coffee.”

“Oh, fantastic.”

“I’ll have your food right out! Do you need anything else right now?”

“No, we’re good, Alicia! Thanks so much.” Steve smiled tiredly at the industrious young woman, who was more than likely working her way through college.

“Alright. I’ll be right back!” She smiled brightly and was gone again.

“Well?” Ross inquired once they were alone.

“Well, what?” He asked, taking a sip of coffee after fixing it to his liking. It was the perfect balance of sweet and bitter.

“You got stuck in your head.”

“I did _not_.” Steve rolled his eyes. “I was just trying to think of something we haven’t talked about yet.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“What _haven’t_ we talked about?”

“Dating?” Ross sounded a little hopeful as he said it.

“I guess we haven’t talked about that, have we?”

“I don’t think we have, sir.”

“Fair game.”

“If you don’t mind?”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “Not if you don’t.”

“No, sir.”

“Alright. Dating, engaged, or married?”

“Neither, currently.” Ross grimaced. “Hard to maintain a relationship when you’re rarely home more than a few weeks.”

“Fair enough.” Steve nodded approvingly. He knew how that was. “So, nosier question. Boy, girl, or neither?”

“Uh. Either, for me. Actually.” Ross seemed a bit surprised by the question. “Can’t really make it obvious, though, can I?”

“No, I guess you can’t!” Steve grinned. Good, open to propositioning under the right circumstances.

“What about you, Captain?” He asked. “Boy, girl, or neither?”

“Both, for me.”

“Interesting.” A nod. “And dating, engaged, or married?”

“Actually, full disclosure, I’m engaged.” Better get _that_ cleared up before things went too far.

“Oh, Jesus fuck.” The poor kid flushed and seemed to flinch. “I’m so sorry Captain-Stev-Mr. Rogers ... ”

“Just call me Steve, son.” Steve said calmly, “Take it easy, Lieutenant.”

“Sure, yeah. Um. Wow, I’m an idiot.” Ross covered his face with both hands.

“Jesus fucking Christ. I’ve been in London too long.” That last bit, muffled as it was, got his attention and Steve raised an eyebrow.

“London?” He inquired.

“I was ... uh, I was out there on a joint-exercise deployment last year and took some time off to visit family during my last leave.”

“Your cousins?”

“John, yeah.” Ross let out a slow, shaky breath. “Jesus Christ, I am _so_ sorry about that, sir. I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Sometimes the filter doesn’t work right. I feel so ... ”

“Ross.” Steve reached over and took his hand, getting his attention. “Stop. It’s alright.”

“Really?”

“Happens to the best of us. If you want to talk about malfunctioning brain-to-mouth filters, son, let me tell you a few stories.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He let go of Ross. “Just take it easy, son, it’s not the end of the world yet.”

He felt bad about dropping the relationship bombshell on Ross like that, but Steve would never, _ever_ willingly mislead someone. It wasn’t fair to either of them. Steve knew what happened when secrets were part of a relationship and no one was completely open and truthful. It wasn’t pretty, and everyone ended up hurt and resentful of everyone else. He didn’t want that to happen with Ross, who was young enough it could cause problems on both ends, and Steve would never willingly sabotage a relationship by keeping his own status a secret.

Alicia came back before Steve could reassure Ross that this really was okay.

“Here you go, boys! Two apple pie a la mode!”

“Oh, that looks amazing!” Steve took the plate she handed him. It was warm to the touch and a scoop of vanilla ice-cream was melting on top of the slice of pie. He could _smell_ the cinnamon.

“I’ll check back in a few minutes, you two enjoy!” Alicia refilled their cups and glasses and disappeared again. She didn’t seem to notice the more-subdued mood or say anything if she did. She wouldn’t, anyway, it wasn’t her business. Or anyone’s really.

“Well, I’ve had enough of doomy-gloomy talk,” Steve said decisively, taking a bite of his pie. It was as good as it smelled. And he’d always been partial to a good slice of apple pie.

“Oh, I need to ask if they’re still using the family recipe.”

“Would you be able to tell if they were?” Ross asked carefully.

“I knew Elizabeth Baker, she was like a grandmother to me.” He took a sip of coffee. “This place was family-run back in the day, but I couldn’t tell you if it still was.”

“The Bakers?”

“Mhm.”

“Baker is a pretty common surname, but I’d be damned if this place wasn’t still run by someone in that family.” Ross mused, “And I _am_ sorry.”

“It’s _fine_ , Ross. I promise.”

“It seems to be a family curse that the boys can’t keep our fucking mouths shut when we should.”

“Get head of yourselves?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t hold it against you, I would probably have done the same thing.”

“Oh, and, um, just ... just call me Rhett, sir.”

“Rhett?” He raised an eyebrow over a sip of coffee.

“Short for Everett.”

“But there’s not an “h” in Everett, is there?”

“Tell that to my grandmother, God bless her.” He got an eye-roll for that one. Steve tried and failed to stifle a grin. And failed spectacularly at stifling a laugh.

“Oh, come on. It’s not _that_ funny, is it?” Ross narrowed his eyes over a bite of pie.

“I’m so sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Your grandmother was a fan of Gone With The Wind, I take it?”

“Was?” That got a scoff. “She still _is_! Keeps a copy of the book on her nightstand and reads it every night! Has for as long as any of us can remember!”

“Not the greatest book-to-movie adaptation, or the best of either.” Steve mused. “But it was a great film and a great book.”

“You’ve read the book, I take it?”

“Read the book, saw the film when it was released in theaters.”

“Oh, Christ, I keep forgetting you were alive back then!”

“I was twenty-one in ’39, if that tells you anything.”

“Oh my god.” Ross shook his head. “So, that means you were, what, twenty-three? Twenty-four, when you enlisted?”

“Mhm.” Steve nodded and took a sip of water, setting his glass down carefully. “I was a year younger than you are right now when I crashed _The Valkyrie_ in ’45.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. I turn twenty-eight this September!” Ross’s eyes got wide. “Oh my god.”

“Never mind, then. I was almost exactly your age when that happened.”

“Well, that kind of puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?” Ross murmured, leaning against the table. “And yet, here you are. I’m sitting right across the damn table from you, Steve!”

“Mhm.”

“Steve Rogers himself! Captain America, America’s First Superhero!”

“And you’ve spent the past four hours with me. Lucky you, Lieutenant Ross.”

“Lucky me! My cousins are _never_ going to believe this!” 

“You’re welcome to tell them you saw me and spent time with me, Rhett.” Steve smiled at Ross’s enthusiasm.

Not the most observant person in the world, Steve wasn’t ignorant either and knew when they strayed out of friendly conversation into flirtatious banter. He really hadn’t done a whole lot of dating, it wasn’t all that important. Nat, Tony, Bucky, and even Peggy had taught him how to flirt, so he knew a thing or two. He was more than happy to flirt, and if it led to more, that was absolutely fine with him. He had Tony’s permission to play if Ross wanted to play, and it looked like the young pilot wanted to play. That was okay with Steve, and Tony had said it was okay with him, too. He would just have to see where the rest of the evening led them, and take it as it came. He wouldn’t force anything, let Ross take the lead here. If it went beyond dinner, drinks, and one of the most interesting after-dinner coffee dates Steve had ever been on in his very limited experience, that was fine. If this was as far as it went, that was absolutely fine, too. It _would_ be nice to share fireworks with somebody but Steve suspected Tony was slumming it with Rhodey tonight, which he kind of did whenever he felt like giving Steve a break. That left Ross as a very promising potential. Time to play a little game of wait-and-see.

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little bastard gave me so much trouble, so I apologize if it's a little awkward. I really did try to clean it up and make it flow. The fact that I spent almost seven days sitting on this and trying to figure out why it just wouldn't work is not something I take very lightly, but nothing for it.


	6. Name Of A Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everett Ross isn't sure what he was expecting when he showed up to a joint-forces 4th of July party, but it's probably safe to say he wasn't expecting some one-on-one time with Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from Everett Ross's POV. Enjoy!  
> ::  
> I promise nothing, but I tried to get the characterizations right going on what little I had to work with/remembered from the films. I figure Ross wasn't always such a stickler for the rules/such an asshole. So, there is that.

* * *

* * *

Of all the ways Everett Ross had imagined spending his Fourth of July, a one-on-one with Steve Rogers had not been part of things. He had kind of figured that he would show up to the veteran’s get-together some interested, invested patron was putting together for the likes of Everett and his fellow service-members, have a few drinks on the government’s dime, maybe get more properly trashed at a bar with a couple of his mates if the sanctioned party wasn’t enough, and go home at the end of night. He figured he would go back either to his place or with one of his mates if he didn’t find somebody willing to go for a round or two between the sheets.

Instead, he’d ended up reconnecting with James Rhodes, which had led to in-person introductions to the likes of Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. When meeting Captain Rogers had led to an escape from the party and a surprisingly intimate dinner for two at a restaurant way above his budget, he hadn’t questioned. Dinner had been amazing, he got to spend some quality time with a true American hero and icon. Everett had long looked up to Captain America, so getting the chance to meet him and talk to him was a unique opportunity. For as long as he could remember, he had wanted to know everything he could learn. He had devoured comic-books and war-bond tapes as a child and had watched hours of footage from the field as he got older. It was something he had shared with his grandfather, who had been a soldier during World War II and gladly shared his stories with eager-eared grandchildren.

Not surprisingly, the real thing had turned out to be far more interesting than stories, and also unexpectedly … _normal_. He had been given permission early on to call Rogers “Steve”, and he really tried to honor that. Everett imagined it wasn’t everyone who got to address Rogers so casually. He got the feeling people kept forgetting that Steve Rogers was just like the rest of them, that he was just a normal person with normal problems. Maybe he had super strength, but he wasn’t immortal or a god or something like that.

He was no longer the skinny, sickly kid from Brooklyn everyone had known before he became a national icon, but he was still sick. Or … had been sick. Recently, too. Everett knew James Rhodes, and asking the right questions got the older pilot to talk. He knew that a good friend of J.R.’s had recently undergone extensive invasive life-saving surgeries. J.R. wouldn’t name names, of course, citing confidentiality, but just knowing that was incredible. Everett had reached out to John, and the two of them had put their heads together and done some careful digging, using any and all venues and connections they had. What they had uncovered was … amazing, to say the least.

But now, having met Steve for himself, Everett knew it was bigger than what his records said. The scarring and faint tattoo-like designs on his hands bespoke a long fight with Hanahaki Disease, maybe a close call. Steve had been surprised to hear Everett use the proper scientific terms for the disease, had asked if he was a doctor.

That had opened the discussion to other venues and subjects. When Steve had quipped something about Everett being a medic, he hadn’t been shy of admitting that he was _also_ a flight-medic. And really, it was nothing to be ashamed of. Yes, John was the doctor in the family, but Everett had done his time and training and if the circumstances called for it, he could fly a med-evac helicopter as well as he could a fighter-jet. And yes, he was rather good with those, too, thanks.

That bit of his history clearly impressed Steve, and somehow that had led to a discussion of family. Specifically Everett’s family. Steve had somehow picked out the faint bit of Everett’s native childhood accent just in their brief conversations and wanted to know where his family was originally from. So, he had explained that he had lived in the United States since the age of six, but had grown up in Somerset with a large, slightly scattered family. Three cousins, only two of whom he still spoke to regularly.

He had gone on to explain what it was Iain and John did with their lives. Leaving out Iain’s own military service in the telling. The stories his grandfather had told him as a child had been amazing, it was one reason Everett and his cousins had wanted to join the military. If they couldn’t have the same experiences their grandfather had in the 40s, they would see about making their own. Everett had joined the United States Air Force, John and Iain had joined the British Army. Iain had gotten as far as the end of his first (and only) deployment before he threw in the towel. He didn’t omit Iain’s service out of ignorance, it just didn’t occur to him to admit to Steve that all _three_ of them had gone to serve the military. He wasn’t sure why, it just didn’t. Not that he suspected it would change the way Steve thought of the family, he seemed to have a great deal of respect for Everett and his cousins regardless.

After dinner, Steve left things open-ended. They could part ways, or they could continue what had to be the most interesting night Everett had had in a long time. Shacking up in a hotel room didn’t seem like the best idea, not the smart thing to do right this moment, but Everett wasn’t quite ready to part ways just yet. So, he suggested getting coffee and dessert somewhere else in Manhattan. Neither of them were terribly hungry, considering the meal Steve had just paid for, but a cup of coffee and a slice of pie sounded like a pretty safe way to end the night’s culinary festivities. And a perfect excuse to keep talking.

So, they went to a smallish diner in Midtown that Everett had frequented pretty regularly over the years. Steve chatted up the hostess, who was apparently a friend of his, and they ended up seated in a small booth. Among the many coincidences of the evening, their server at Andrew’s was the same girl who had served them at the steakhouse earlier. The very same girl, and she was as surprised to see _them_ as they were to see her! But it was nice to see a friendly, familiar face.

As he had hoped, Everett got Steve to keep talking. Things got a little awkward when Steve admitted that he was actually engaged, but before Everett could start feeling too sorry for himself, dessert had come. Taking the distraction, Everett was intrigued when Steve mentioned that he had known the family who had owned and run the café back in the day, wondering if they still used the same family recipe.

“Would you be able to tell if they were?” He asked curiously.

“I knew Elizabeth Baker, she was like a grandmother to me.” Steve took a sip of coffee. “This place was family-run back in the day, but I couldn’t tell you if it still was.”

“The Bakers?”

“Mhm.”

“Baker is a pretty common surname, but I’d be damned if this place wasn’t still run by someone in that family.” Everett mused. He looked across the table at Steve. “And, really, I _am_ sorry.”

“It’s _fine_ , Ross.” Steve just smiled at him. “I promise.”

“It seems to be a family curse that the boys can’t keep our fucking mouths shut when we should.” He muttered.

“Get head of yourselves?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t hold it against you, I would probably have done the same thing.” The way Steve looked at him was … reassuring. Neither of them was infallible, and this was just a reminder. Everett was still embarrassed, disgusted that he’d fallen prey to the Watson Luck. It wasn’t the first time, it wasn’t going to be the last.

“Oh, and, um, just ... just call me Rhett, sir.” He said, tapping his fork against the plate. He wasn’t sure why it had occurred to him just this minute, but it seemed important to let Steve know what he could call Everett.

“Rhett?” Steve raised an eyebrow over a sip of coffee. Andrew’s really did have some damn good coffee. Sure beat barrack’s swill, which wasn’t _that_ hard to do.

“Short for Everett.” He explained.

“But there’s not an “h” in Everett, is there?”

“Tell that to my grandmother, God bless her.” Everett rolled his eyes at that one. Steve tried and failed to stifle a grin. And failed spectacularly at stifling a laugh.

“Oh, come on. It’s not _that_ funny, is it?” Everett narrowed his eyes over a bite of pie. Honestly, he didn’t blame Steve for laughing, it was actually pretty funny. Especially since Steve was correct, there wasn’t an “h” anywhere in the spelling of Everett. But Ganna Watson had never cared and always called him Rhett, to this day it was the only damn thing she _ever_ called him.

“I’m so sorry.” Steve cleared his throat. “Your grandmother was a fan of Gone With The Wind, I take it?”

“Was?” Everett scoffed. “She still _is_! Keeps a copy of the book on her nightstand and reads it every night! Has for as long as any of us can remember!”

“Not the greatest book-to-movie adaptation, or the best of either.” Steve mused. “But it was definitely a great film and a great book.”

“You’ve read the book, I take it?”

“Read the book, saw the film when it was released in theaters.”

“Oh, Christ, I keep forgetting you were alive back then!”

“I was twenty-one in ’39, if that tells you anything.”

“Oh my god.” He did some quick math in his head. “So, that means you were, what, twenty-three? Twenty-four, when you enlisted?”

“Mhm.” Steve nodded and took a sip of water, setting his glass down carefully. “I was a year younger than you are right now when I crashed _The Valkyrie_ in ’45.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Everett nearly choked on a sip of water. “I turn twenty-eight this September!”

“Never mind, then.” Steve shook his head. “I was almost exactly your age when that happened.”

“Well, that kind of puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?” Everett murmured, leaning against the table. It was incredible, almost _scary_ , how young Steve had been. How young all of them who’d seen World War II in person had been.

“And yet, here you are. I’m sitting right across the damn table from you, Steve!”

“Mhm.”

“ _The_ Steve Rogers! Captain America, America’s First Superhero!”

“And you’ve spent the past four hours with me.” Steve raised his coffee-cup in salute. “Lucky you, Lieutenant Ross.”

“Lucky me! My cousins are _never_ going to believe this!” 

“You’re welcome to tell them you saw me and spent time with me, Rhett.” Steve smiled at his enthusiasm. Everett blushed a little, he couldn’t help himself. It was kind of touching that Steve made such an effort to call him Rhett, but that spoke well to the man’s character. He tried his best to put the people around him at ease as best he could, tried to connect with them as people. It was a nice reminder that Steve Rogers was a real person, and a very _interesting_ person.

After three cups of coffee and two plates scraped completely clean, Everett paid the bill and they left the diner.

“Have a good night, boys!” The hostess chimed from the station, where she and their server folded silverware into napkins for tomorrow morning.

“Goodnight, Candy!” Steve called back. They were out on the sidewalk when Steve suddenly froze.

“Oh, damn it.” He muttered, looking a little annoyed.

“What’s wrong?” Everett asked curiously.

“I think I left my wallet back in the diner!” Steve looked a little embarrassed. “Can you … ?”

“Yeah, no problem.” Everett shook his head. “I’ll see about getting a taxi.”

“I’ll save you the trouble. Call this number and give them our address.” Steve handed him a business-card and disappeared inside.

Everett had a personal cell-phone on him, so he used that to call the phone number Steve had given him. It rang a few times before the call was picked up.

 _“This is Edwin Jarvis.”_ The man who answered sounded vaguely familiar. Everett looked over his shoulder. Was this the man who had driven them earlier?

_“Uh, sorry. This is Everett Ross, I think we met earlier this evening.”_

_“Oh, good to hear from you, Lieutenant Ross!”_ Jarvis sounded a bit brighter.

_“Um, yes. Sorry to bother you, but Steve told me to call you?”_

_“Let me guess, you boys need a ride somewhere?”_

_“ Something like that. If it's not too much trouble?”_

_“It’s my job, Lieutenant!”_ He could swear the butler was laughing at him, _“I’ll be right over, you boys just sit tight and stay out of trouble!”_

 _“I promise nothing, but I’ll try to keep Steve out of any fist-fights.”_ Everett looked at the people passing by on the sidewalk, the traffic going by on the street. _“That’s probably the last thing either of us needs on our records.”_

 _“I’ll see you shortly, Lieutenant Ross.”_ He could tell that Jarvis was smiling as they hung up and Everett pocketed the phone with a shrug. Going back inside, he met Steve coming back from the dining-room.

“Did you find your wallet?”

“Yep.” Steve waved the missing article at him with a grin. “You get hold of Jarvis?”

“Yes, I did. He said to stay out of trouble.”

“Well, I guess after three years, he would know.” Steve chuckled and looked at the hostess. “Is it alright with you if we wait in here, Candy?”

“Absolutely! I know you’re good for it, Rogers.” The girl just smirked. “Where’s Tony?”

“Bothering Rhodey for the night.” Steve shrugged. “Kind of kicked me out, I think.”

“What’d you do this time?”

“Absolutely _nothing_.” Steve rolled his eyes. Everett snickered. This clearly wasn’t the first time Steve had shown up somewhere, probably this diner, and given a sob-story.

“You never did introduce your handsome friend, Steve.” The hostess looked over at Everett and smirked. “I was just telling Alex that you’ve got all the bloody luck!”

“Oh, sorry about that!” Steve looked at Everett and gave an apologetic smile. “Candice Broward, this is Everett Ross.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine!” The girl’s smile broadened as they shook hands.

“Be nice to him, Candy.” Steve warned, “He belongs to Rhodey.”

“Damn it, Rogers! I was kidding!”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He shrugged, not sorry at all.

“Ugh, you are such a killjoy!” That got Steve a dirty look. “So what, you stole him from Rhodey, is that it?”

“I did _not_ steal him, thank you.” Steve objected. “You know I don’t play dirty like that.”

“I wonder about you sometimes, Rogers.” Broward folded her arms across her chest with a dismissive sniff.

“Don’t you dare break the boy’s heart.”

“Not happening, Candy.”

“He already broke the bad news to me, ma’am.” Everett decided to speak up, make a bit of a point.

“And you didn’t run away screaming?” Broward’s eyebrows went up.

“You’re either brave or stupid.”

“Both, I think, ma’am. Runs in the family, I’m afraid.” Everett just shrugged.

“I like this one, Rogers, don’t you dare screw it up.”

“I haven’t yet, Candy. A little faith?”

“Hmph.” It was clear Broward didn’t believe Steve or trust him, and Everett couldn’t say he blamed the girl at all.

“It’s only been four hours, give the man a chance.” He said cheerfully. “I’m not running for the hills until I have a damn good reason to.”

“Okay, that’s enough out of you two.” Steve huffed, rolling his eyes. “Are you two done?”

“Sorry, sir.” Everett grinned at Steve, who just gave him a slightly disgusted look. What was wrong with him that he was acting like _this_ around Steve Rogers? Or was it wrong at all?

“Oh, boy, you are a treat, Ross!” Broward laughed, “I haven’t seen him turn that shade of red in a long time!”

“I can hold my own, Miss Broward.”

“I can tell!” She smiled, looking past them for a minute.

“Oh, I think your ride’s here, Rogers.”

“Hmm?” Steve looked over his shoulder and they spotted Jarvis standing by the door, surprisingly inconspicuous in his presence.

“Guess that’s our ride.” Everett murmured.

“Thanks, Candy!” Steve gave her a hug, “See you around!”

“Don’t be a stranger, Rogers, we’re practically family.”

“I make no promises.” Steve waved and held the door for Everett as they left the diner together.

“Where to, sir?” Jarvis asked cheerfully once they were in the car.

“Is there anyone home right now?”

“No, sir.” Jarvis looked at them in the mirror and smiled. “Mister Stark said he would stay with Captain Rhodes tonight, I believe.”

“Of course he knew.” Steve shook his head, giving Everett a sly look, a wink. “Well, in that case. Home, Jarvis.”

“Yes, sir.” Jarvis nodded and rolled the divider up again, getting them underway. A silence fell between them, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence.

“So, where are we going?”He asked after a while.

“My place. Better than a hotel, and probably smarter than barracks.” Steve looked over at him, “If you want to make a stop by yours to get a change of clothes, we can stop on the way.”

“Um.” Everett blinked. “Well, sure. I guess it would be a good idea?”

“Unless you feel like doing the walk of shame in _that_ get-up.” Steve gestured at the uniform he was wearing. “Or borrowing some of Tony’s clothes? I doubt he would mind.”

“No thanks.” Everett snorted. “We can stop by mine, if that’s not too much of a hassle for Jarvis?”

“Nope.” Steve tapped a button on the armrest and they heard Jarvis’ voice from the front.

_“Yes, sir?”_

_“We’re making a quick stop, Jarvis.”_ Steve looked at Everett, who gave up his address. Once they were on their way, Everett settled in for a long detour.

“What’s on your mind over there, Ross?” Steve inquired after a few minutes of quiet.

“I just feel bad, this is two hours out of your way.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. A two-hour detour to Gabreski is fine.” He shook his head dismissively. “We would have been just as happy to drive to McGuire.”

“I was supposed to be stationed on McGuire, but they sent me to Gabreski.”

“Makes sense, if you’re a flight-medic.” Steve mused. “Gabreski is home to the Air Force’s 106th Rescue Wing.”

“I’m due to be reassigned to the 106th,” Everett admitted. It was going to be a rough transition, but Everett was nothing if not adaptable.

“Good luck, son. But you’ll do fine.” Steve smiled at him as the car slowed at the gates to the base and Jarvis explained their business. They all surrendered their id’s upon request, and the expression on the young guardsman’s face was priceless.

“Oh my God.” The Airman First Class who had taken their id’s ducked to peek in and blinked in alarm at the sight of Steve in the back seat. “Jesus! Captain Rogers!”

“At ease, Airman.” Steve just smiled.

“Yes, sir! Oh, wow!” It was clear Steve had a fan with this one and Everett hid his smile in one hand as Steve shook hands with the Airman as their cards were returned.

“Have a good night, sir!”

“You, too, son.” Steve exchanged salutes with the guards and they were waved through.

“I think you just made their night, Steve,” Everett whispered. “None of us like getting strapped with guard-duty, but they’ve got a hell of a story to tell in the morning.”

“Yeah, who’s gonna believe ‘em?”

“You’d be surprised.” He shrugged.

It was quiet while Jarvis drove them to Everett’s place in base housing, and he had them wait while he went inside to grab an overnight bag. He had leave approved to be off-base for the night, but he was technically still on duty, so he just packed a clean uniform. He wasn’t on active duty with a flight-crew at the moment, so he picked out a clean pair of BDUs and called it even. But he had learned the hard way to always be prepared, so a Nomex flight-suit went in, along with appropriate footwear for both uniforms.

Once he had everything he needed, Everett tossed the bag over one shoulder and made sure everything was shut down properly until he got back. Locking his door on his way out, he pocketed his keys and went back to the waiting car. Jarvis was waiting by the trunk, ready to take his bag, and Everett just handed it over with a smile.

“Is this all, sir?”

“That’s it, Jarvis. Thanks.”

“Of course, Lieutenant.” Jarvis gave him a cheerful smile and indicated the open door as he stashed Everett’s bag in the trunk. “After you.”

“Thanks.” Everett hopped into the car and got settled. Jarvis came through and shut the door for them before getting them turned around and headed back to Manhattan. It wasn’t exactly the way he’d seen himself spending The 4th, but it was definitely not the worst.

Honestly, he was surprised he hadn’t been gate-crashed by his cousins yet. That was coming, knowing _his_ dismal Watson Luck. Everett, as much as he adored his cousins, wasn’t quite sure he wanted to unleash the twins on the unsuspecting and unprepared likes of Steve Rogers. Well, hope for the best and prepare for the worst. It was all he could do.

* * *

* * *


End file.
